Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/245

O grass, O flowers, which she
Swept with her gown that veiled
The angelic breast unseen ;
O sacred air serene,
Whence the divine-eyed Love my heart assailed,
By all of ye be heard
This my supreme lament, my dying word.

Oh, if it be my fate
(As Heaven shall so decree)
That Love shall close for me my weeping eyes.
Some courteous friend I supplicate
Midst these to bury me,
Whilst my enfranchised spirit homeward flies ;
Less dreadful death shall rise,
If I may bear this hope
To that mysterious goal.
For ne'er did weary soul
Find a more restful spot in all Earth's scope,
Nor in a grave more tranquil could win free
From outworn flesh and weary limbs to flee.

Perchance the time shall be
When to my place of rest,
With milder grace my wild fawn shall return
Here where she looked on me
Upon that day thrice blest :
Then she shall bend her radiant eyes that yearn
In search of me, and (piteous sight !) shall learn
That I, amidst the stones, am clay.